


Bleed

by DaemonBites



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Headcanon, Hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 13:56:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16641459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaemonBites/pseuds/DaemonBites
Summary: The cliff is a wall of regret and pain.He deserves it, he knows he does.It doesn't stop him from wanting to live, to see the light and understand why his mother loved it so.





	Bleed

Your hands are bleeding.

You want to huff but every breath you release is precious. 

Your head pounds, your shoulders ache, your chest tight, your stomach empty, and your legs cry from the strain. 

Your hands are bleeding. 

The rocks dig into your palms. They are not sharp, they’ve never been but your hands are raw and your skin thin and they cut you nonetheless.

You curse it. Curse them all. Curse yourself. You’ve been here before. Seen this part of the wall a thousand times, you know it and it knows you. You wish it greets you like a friend but it remains cold. It is a rock, you tell yourself, as if it makes it better. 

You wish the rock would grow a heart.

Your hands are bleeding.

You haul yourself up another step, sight swimming white. A foot slips and you freeze, chest tight, panic slamming into you and your body feels like it’s falling, falling, falling-

The blood drips down your elbow and somehow the pain makes you angry instead of sad and you climb another step.

The wall in front of you spirals ever high. The sky is a thin thread in the dome of dark nothing you call home.

The dark is cold. You are cold. Why do you shake in the cold?

Your hands bleed.

The exhaustion hits you as it always does, slow yet sudden like the rain you used to love. It strikes you like lightning and grips your heart in a slow, torturous squeeze. 

A sob always signals your defeat.

Your hand slips.

No one hears you fall again.

**Author's Note:**

> Headcanon of Maeglin not actually dying when he fell off the cliff (I know, a bit of a stretch but I couldn't stop thinking about it)
> 
> Check me out at daemonicpaladin.tumblr.com


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